It has been said that time heals all wounds
by gublerland
Summary: "He tried normalcy but it didn't work for him, instead he decided to just wait for everything to happen." Selection of one-shot's.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the characters from the show. This is purely for entertainment.

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_"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree the wounds remains. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens, but it is never gone."_

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He looks in the mirror, watching the sweat drip down his face, the small droplets rolling down his pale face, taunting his horror as he stares at the lifeless reflection looking back at him. His dark eyes sinking into his face, the pupils barely visible as the darkness of his fear overwhelm them, hiding them from the light. He had another dream. This one was more real, this one still haunts him even now as he tries to wash away all the fear with the crystal clear water that runs from the tap. His bottom lip quivers, his fingers tapping on the porcelain bowl, it's two am and he's awake yet again, a terrifying fright overcoming him, disturbing his chances of falling back asleep again. He thought it had gone away, he thought the fear of the reality which would soon hit him had disappeared. But he was wrong.

Spencer Reid walked back from his bathroom, sweat still staining his face and he crossed the hall into his dim bedroom, his covers still thrown back off his bed. He stood in the darkness for a few moments, absorbing the feelings that had risen from the one dream. Slowly, he clambered back into bed, his t-shirt cooling down rapidly as it hit the sheets. He took a deep breath and forced his eyes shut, he needed sleep, he couldn't risk lying awake anymore, letting his brain do all the talking and convincing himself that he was in trouble that he was going down a dark path. He knew he wasn't, he knew he could fight them, he had fought off his demons before and he could certainly do it again. He was Spencer Reid, boy wonder, boy genius. Before he knew it, he had drifted off to sleep and his mind was at peace.

Waking up the next day was exceptionally easy, his eyes sprung open exactly two minutes before his alarm was due to go off and he managed to pour himself a nice warm mug of coffee before it even began to buzz. Spencer inhaled happily, he felt fresh, like the day was going to be good. He watched his hands in the mirror as they steadily fixed his black tie, its contrasting darkness enhancing his wonderful choice of blue shirt. He pulled on his black cardigan and made his way out of his small bedroom, striding into his kitchen, grabbing a piece of fruit which lay waiting for him. He took a moment to wonder why he had woke up feeling so revitalized after his terrible night's sleep but it was only for a moment and then he pulled on his shoes and made his way out of the door, taking himself to work.

The case that waited for him as he arrived at the office was an easy one; it was one he had seen many times before, an _Unsub_, a man, who was stalking and killing women for his own pleasure. Spencer, reading the file once, knew that it was an attack motivated by his sexual rejection by woman, something he had been used to all his life, he knew the stressor would be something small but catastrophic and he didn't even need guess on what the outcome of the whole day would be, constant guessing of who? What? Why? When the answers were right in front of everyone's eyes. As Spencer sipped his coffee, quickly gazing to the side to look at Morgan, his forehead creased as he struggled to comprehend the situation, it always amazed him as to how everyone's mind worked in different ways. Spencer loved logic and facts, they were his stories, his fiction that kept him wanting more, whereas Garcia loved her computers and her fairy-tale novels, she hated when a case didn't have a happy ending, though most rarely do. The mind was a wonder subject to study, he thought, which is one of the reasons he joined the force, he wanted to study these unique minds of demented people. It wasn't long before he was called on to help, the rest of the team deciding to finally let his brain out of the box. Spencer didn't mind, he had learnt to keep his intelligence under control, he knew that the others needed their time to try and outsmart him, though most rarely did. They all watched in fascination and Spencer recalled his previous thoughts on the profile of the suspect, his mouth moving at a rapid speed as the words fell out of his mouth like a poison.

By the end of the day, the suspect is caught and no one else is in danger. Well that's what they all think. But deep in the mechanics of their team, there is a loose screw. A young man who's slowly losing his mind, losing his sense of belonging, he walks around like nothing's changed, nothings changing but inside he thinks everything is. He's not sure but he feels different. He goes home the same, making a quick stop to buy some more coffee beans but his routine is the same. He sits in his chair, staring at the wall as his dinner cooks, the oven making a quiet humming sound that is just loud enough that it fills his ears, making his mind seem that bit more empty as he concentrates on the ticking of the clock, counting down the minutes until it's ready. He can feel his mind emptying, his problems seeming less important as his work consumes his life, making the small details of his personal existence seem meaningless as long as he continues to keep the maniacs and serial killers away from the brightness of day. He still goes to sleep empty, his mind drifting into the unknown, his subconscious making up images that haunt him by the day.

He's still the same. He always will be.


End file.
